by Autumn Dawn
She raised a skeptical brow. “You're going to have a hard time marrying a girl who doesn't want kids."
"Do you?"
That caught her off guard. “Well, no. Not really. I mean, I don't think I'd be a bad mom, I just don't have the urge, you know? I don't like the idea of being pregnant, or childbirth, or diapers. Myself, I think it would be better to adopt a kid. Someone else has already done the worst stuff, that way."
"What about the teenage years?"
She shrugged. “I'm not afraid of teens. They're easy to talk to."
He smiled. “You see? We'd be perfect—not that anything's decided now. Here, try these fruit jellies. They're delicious.” Best to change the subject, let it percolate in her subconscious. “Did I tell you I've officially retired from my post as ambassador to Earth? Kirk took it over. Not that there's much traffic these days. There's only a few families left on Earth, most of which are making noise about crossing over. Some of the Elders are retiring and crossing over, acknowledging that their roles are being phased out. Elders Azion and Traforte should arrive in a couple of days."
She stiffened and cut her eyes his way. “Really?” She wasn't stupid enough to think both of them had suddenly decided to retire following her trip to the Darklands. She was a sitting duck, nicely boxed in by Fallon's protective care.
She suddenly realized that Fallon hadn't asked her any more questions about her father's death and the Haunt involved. He'd seen how much the experience still affected her—for all she knew her allergy to Haunt fur was also psychosomatic.
Granted, he sometimes came off as a flake and a playboy—witness his talk about marrying her—but how much of that was real? Someone had put him in charge of the portal, and that was no position for a fool. He might be easygoing around her, but she remembered her first glimpse of him, wreathed in dust from the bomb. This was a dangerous man. Relaxing around him was hazardous.
Becoming his lover was the act of a madwoman.
"There's going to be a party for them in a couple of days. We're invited, of course."
"Not interested.” She picked up her wine and took a slow sip, just to have something casual to do. She had a poker face when she wanted, and these weren't thoughts she wished to share.
Her father had talked to both Elders Azion and Traforte within days of each other. Soon after that they had been swarmed with murderous Haunt. For a girl who hadn't know about them until her teens, nor even seen a transformed one, it was a horrific experience. If she hadn't wanted to be one of them before, she really wasn't happy about it then.
One of them wanted the Bell, and they wanted to keep quiet about its existence. She wasn't eager to reveal it, either. It was her ticket out of there ... she thought. After all, it hadn't been tested yet.
"You're still angry at them for sending you here?"
Fallon's casual question made her refocus. “I have no use for the council,” she said coolly. “Like I said, I'm a US citizen. I'm here under protest."
He watched her. “You've been very quiet about your protests."
"Who's listening to me? I said it to the council and my stance hasn't changed."
"You enjoyed the market and seemed to like your new garden."
Rain shrugged. “I learned a long time ago to make the most of the moment. Yeah, they were cool. I enjoyed parts of Ireland, too, but I wouldn't want to live there permanently."
"What would change your mind?"
She looked away, toward the glass patio doors, and blinked. There were three moons in the sky. “Whoa!” Unable to resist, she crossed the room and stepped outside, his question forgotten.
Moonlight bathed Fallon's private garden, lighting it much brighter than she'd ever seen the night be. Why did they call this place the Darklands?
Fallon followed her out, lounging against a tree trunk. “Pretty?"
"Beautiful,” she agreed, soaking it in.
"You didn't answer my question."
She sighed. “What would make me stay here? I don't know. Whatever it is, I haven't seen it yet."
His eyes glinted in the moonlight. “Haven't you?"
She considered him a moment, then answered him honestly. “You haven't shown me yourself yet. I don't really know you. Maybe you really do want a wife, but you're blowing smoke. Whatever you are, it's not what you pretend to be. You're different since we came here, but I remember what you looked like when you shot Rory."
He looked down with a slight smile. “They said you were a genius.” When he looked back up, his eyes were smoky, with flashes of hot embers. “So you want to see the real me, do you?"
"No.” She had a feeling that it wasn't all pretty. No one who did the things he had to do would be all sweetness and light. “You want to know what I want? A boring, suburban existence. I want to fight with the cable repair man, go grocery shopping early to avoid traffic, pay a mortgage. I've lived a life of adventure, and you know what? It's not all it's cracked up to be. I want to sleep in the same bed every night with sheets that I've washed myself and not have to worry about bedding down in an ally where a drunk might stumble in to harass me. I don't want to have to kill anyone else.” She looked away. “I'm tired of them trying to kill me."
"I can guarantee the man who wants to hurt you is going to find it hard,” Fallon said firmly. “I'm trying to give you what privacy I can, but the security around you is very real, Rain. I am watching out for you."
Her eyes narrowed. “Why would you feel the need? After all, without the cult here, I'm just another penniless immigrant.” She watched him picking his words, wondering what he suspected, what he knew.
"Perhaps I should be questioning you. You never did give me any details about your father's murder, other than that Haunt were involved. There aren't that many of us who could have participated. The Earth population is down to hundreds. I know the police investigated the murder and your disappearance. I've seen the reports, but by the time we found out and sent our own people to check into it, the scent traces and such were faint. I can't guarantee that some of those Haunt haven't since crossed over. The council knows this and wouldn't have turned you loose here without a protector."
"So you're just being cautious?"
He scanned the moons for a moment. “You know, what happened to your father was overkill. He wasn't a warrior. One, maybe two Haunt could have taken him out, but estimates are that there were at least four or five.” He considered her. “It seems like they were looking for something. What could that be, Rain?"
She rubbed her right bicep. “Maybe it died with him. What little I saw as I was getting away.... “The memories were stark.
Fallon looked more thoughtful that pitying. “Do you know what I think, Rain? I think you do know what they wanted, and that you carried it away with you. I also think you were pursued by more than members of the cult.” He let that statement hang, then added, “I think whatever this thing was, you either hid it ... or you still have it."
Her eyes widened.
He shook his head slowly. “You've got to work on those tells, sweetheart. You're a book. It's a weapon, isn't it?"
"It's not a—” She could have swallowed her tongue, she was so chagrined by her mistake.
White teeth flashed in a predator's smile. “Not a weapon. Are you sure? Men do kill for them."
A growl of vexation vibrated in her throat. “Not your business, Fallon."
"Things that can be used against my people are my business. So?"
"You've been trying to gain my trust. That's what all this has been about. That's why you seduced me.” If she couldn't dodge him, she'd go on the attack.
He shook his head, but remained relaxed against the statue. “While I'm not above those kind of tactics, no. I wanted to see what it would be like. Happily, it was all I expected.” His teeth flashed again.
She snarled. “If I wanted to make a weapon, I'd test it on you first. I haven't made any ... yet."
He shrugged. “Why don't you just show it to me and e
nd the battle? Why all the secrecy?"
"Because it's mine. Because it's none of your business! Not the council's, not yours, got it? It's mine."
"Is the secrecy worth risking your father's murderers going free?"
"If I knew anything about that, I'd come clean. I don't. You werewolves all look alike to me. I didn't smell anything I'd remember, so do me a favor and bugger off, mate!” She stalked off. Oddly, he didn't follow her to her room. Maybe he knew she would be easy enough to find when he was ready to interrogate her again. This reprieve couldn't last.
Anxiety made her restless, and pacing her small room didn't help. She needed out, so she threw on some jeans, a navy sports bra and a long sleeved, black shirt. Dressed for success, she scaled her garden wall.
She wasn't trying to escape the Darklands. It was freezing cold on the other side of the gate, assuming she could find it. Her sense of direction sucked. Even if she could follow the snow machine tracks back, she'd freeze long before she reached civilization.
No, she just needed a break from company, especially Fallon's. Crossing the grassy spot behind the wall, she took a straight line toward the looming shape of an obstacle course she'd seen in the distance that morning. At the time it had been swarming with Haunt, but now it stood abandoned at the edge of the park.
Rolling her neck, she jumped up and grabbed one of the dangling ropes. Wrapping the rope around one leg and holding it with her feet, she climbed up hand over hand to the top beam. Walking across was easy—she'd always had excellent balance and no fear of heights. She climbed down the cargo net and then sprinted over to the pole at the end, climbing it like a palm tree. The next bit was harder, a series of poles spaced at two foot intervals, and not in a strait line. Pretending they were stepping stones, she paced across them, her carriage straight and confident. To dismount, she grabbed the hand bar and slid down the line, over an open pit filled with water.
Enjoying the challenge, she slithered, shinnied and hopped at full speed, then sprinted back to the beginning of the course and did it all again.
About the forth run through, she started to tire. It was late and she'd been running a marathon of sorts for the better part of a year. She turned back toward the garden, and froze. She scented Haunt on the air. There, to her right.
Her nose and ears were keener in human form than when she changed, oddly enough. She looked in the direction of the smell, but couldn't see anything. Whoever it was, they hadn't bothered her yet, and she was looking right at them.
Breathing deeply to ward off panic—or maybe it was controlled hyperventilation—she paced toward her garden. Now that her senses were attuned, she could tell there was more than one following her, to her right, left and behind. Brilliant. She'd have to sprint for it if they moved in, and she'd already used up precious adrenaline.
Reaching into her pocket, she casually removed a little toy of hers, then closed her eyes as she held it up. A brilliant flash lit up the darkness as she broke the modified glow stick, wiping out the night vision of those following her. Opening her own eyes, she sprinted the distance to the garden, leaping obstacles as she ran. Vaulting up, she grabbed the top of the wall and swung over, hitting the ground running. She threw open her patio door and dashed in—then muffled a shriek as the lights turned on.
"You do realize that you just blinded your security detail."
"Fallon,” she gasped, blinking at him warily.
"I can tolerate your sneaking out at night if you really must, but not your incapacitating your protection. What did you use on them?"
She looked at her hand dumbly, then recovered and shoved it behind her back. “Just a little glow stick."
"Give it here.” He held out his hand.
"No. It's used up, anyway."
One minute she had the stick behind her back, the next he had it, leaving her blinking with the speed he moved. “Hey!"
He examined the glow stick with a slight frown, then stuck it in his pocket. “You said you didn't make weapons."
"That's an overgrown flashlight."
"You just blinded three of my men with it. Had they been human, it would have been permanent. As it is, they'll be days healing."
"Lucky them,” she said flippantly. “How was I to know I wasn't running for my life?"
He regarded her steadily. “Let's get some ground rules straight. When you want to go out at night, you tell me or my head of security—I'll introduce you. That way we can avoid your panicking and doing something rash. How many of these things do you have?” He raised the hand holding the spent glow stick.
She shrugged. “I can make as many as I want."
Fallon sighed. “If we didn't already have similar technology, I'd tell you to patent it. In another situation, I would applaud your quick thinking. As it is—take care not to hurt the people who care for you. You're not an island anymore.” He left.
Disconcerted by his quiet words, she sat down in a chair. Great. Now she felt bad. Well, how was she supposed to know it hadn't been the bad guys chasing her? Those poor sods probably had families.
Disgruntled, knowing she'd sleep poorly anyway, she sat around and tried to think of something to make amends.
* * * *
Fallon paused in drinking his coffee, one brow raised. Malian had just delivered a piece of paper with a complex schematic. He had to smile as he read the messy handwriting across the top. Rain had designed a night vision goggle to protect his Haunt's eyes from sudden flashes.
So that was how geniuses apologized. A simple ‘I'm sorry’ would have worked. Apparently her mind worked differently. A point to remember.
"Something funny, my lord?"
Fallon smirked at his head of security and handed over the paper.
Rykarr laughed. “Interesting apology. I'd hire her, if I were you."
Fallon slanted him a glance and went back to his coffee. “You would, wouldn't you? She's a handful."
"Beauty, though."
That earned him another look. “You're looking for me to fall in love and settle down, aren't you? I plan to take her on, but I'm not in love yet."
"Matter of time with that one.” To look at him, you wouldn't think Rykarr was a romantic. A mercenary, maybe, with his gunmetal gray hair and black eye patch. Not all injuries could be healed, even by a Haunt.
"A bottomless well of interesting turns, I'll admit. That's largely her appeal."
"Not her fetching hazel eyes. I understand. Her mind is exactly what I'd pursue, too.” An old veteran who'd served his father and taught Fallon much of what he knew, he got away with a lot of cheek.
Fallon just smiled. Rykarr could fish all he liked, he wasn't going to get a bite. “How are her replacement soldiers doing?"
"Much warier than the last batch. Any idea what tricks she has left?"
"Expect anything.” Her room had already been searched, but they hadn't found anything suspicious. After the glow stick experience, he wasn't sure they would recognize trouble if they saw it. She liked to disguise her tricks.
Must have a thing for secret agents.
He did like the way her mind worked. Combined with the British flavored accent, she more than held his interest. While he wouldn't mistake that interest for love, it was growing. It was inevitable, and he planned to take her down with him. Getting her there, though ... it would help if she trusted him.
Chapter Six
She didn't trust him. Rain unscrewed the housing from a broken communication device and set it down in the clockwise pattern she'd started with the screws. Malian had rustled up an entire basket load of defunct and broken devices, plus a rather nice tool kit. If Rain had been the one paying her, she'd have given her a raise. Instead, she'd praised her ingenuity and sent her out for a list of components, chemicals and lunch. She wondered how long it would take before Fallon showed up to comment on her budding lab.
Not that she was cooking up anything dangerous right now. If she had been, she'd have hidden it among the junk pile, fully expecting
him to poke around. The best way to hide something was in plain sight, which is why she'd attached the Bell to a flat gold collar she'd had Malian find. Actually, she'd requested that Malian find something inexpensive—beads, leather—to hang the pendant from. From the weight of the necklace, she didn't think it was made of gold-plated nickel. It looked good, though she'd had to wear one of the dressier outfits Fallon had purchased for her to make it blend in. At least the amber silk tunic and harem pants were comfortable.
As she was pondering the probability of ruining the hardwood floor if she started messing with chemicals, there came a knock on the door. “It's open."
Fallon walked in and frowned at her table full of junk. “Malian requested a soldering gun for you."
"Ah, yes? I'll pay you back. I'm planning to construct a levitating solar light with some of these spare parts. It should sell well."
He waved that off. “This room is not meant to be a hobby shop. I'll get you a proper room set up if you'll be patient for a day or two. If nothing else, you'll need more tables.” He surveyed the spare parts spilling off the table, scattered on the floor and overflowing a basket with a frown. “Make a list of what you'd like to have and I'll see it set up. Books, tools, materials ... whatever. I'd rather you had a safe and comfortable working environment than be forced to make do with the kitchen table and a fingernail file."
Stunned at his generosity, she stared at him. Suspicious moisture burned her eyes, and she had the alarming urge to run over and hug him. He probably had no idea what he'd just done for her. “Really?” she whispered.
Slow, confident, his smile lit up her heart. “I don't need to stifle your mind, sweetheart. It's one of the sexiest things about you."
That did it. She got up and crushed him in a hug. After all, he'd broken the touch barrier when he'd made love to her. Like a little girl suddenly shown affection, she seemed to look for an excuse to touch him. “Thank you,” she said, strangling on the emotion. If he didn't stop it, she was going to fall in love with him.
He laughed as if surprised, then returned the hug, stroking her back. “Here I thought it would be difficult to convince you to go sailing with me. Will that count as part of your thank you?"
